A little old lady I know who has one of the dogs we fostered in another life feeds the dog commercial gingersnaps to ward off car sickness. I approve, because the snaps make the dog’s kisses smell like root beer.
I seem to recall reading somewhere that a pinch of ginger in baked beans defuses the less pleasant aftereffects of that dish. I’m thinking ginger beanie-weenie might be dinner for tonight.
Okay, first off, **VunderBob ** darling, six months is one heck of a long time to wait for a gastric bypass. No one I know has had to wait for more than three months and that was to coordinate time off. Why for is you gonna have to wait half a year? You could practically be skinny in that time.
Lissla, I could go along with your mister until he turned up his snout at marzipan. As has been mentioned, that boy ain’t right. But he’s a cutie so I guess you should keep him. Speaking of food, I made the corned beef part of my SPD meal, but it lurks in the fridge since I was busy yesterday getting poked and such at the doctor and did not feel like cooking or eating nuffink when I got home. Which was late because I couldn’t tell the cute guy I met at the bookstore that I wouldn’t have coffee with him because we were right there near a Starbucks, plus he was cute and nice and smart and ten years younger than I am, pootles. Why is it cradles are so easy for me to rob? Must I troll retirement homes to get a man my own age?
Anyway, I agree that there can be too much chocolate. This is why I must pair up with someone like FCMom. I would order choclatey stuff and then after three or four bites she could sample the rest of mine. Because as **Kalley ** noted, there are starving children everywhere and wasting is a bad thing. Especially when it’s potentially yummy wastage.
I don’t like bikes too much anymore. First, my first big bike was behind how I found out Santa wasn’t real and that my parents *lied * to me. But it was a good bike and I could stand on the seat and ride it even. But after that my ten speed just nearly got me run over a million times because drivers around here think it’s their job to nearly hit you with their car, the bastids. And then there’s the evil bike-like things at the gym which I refuse to discuss further. So yeah, feh on bikes. Unless you’re a kid so get outside in the sunshine and ride around, but wear your helmet and actually use the chin strap.
Also, **Rue ** and Shibby, and all other parents. Are you teaching your children how to whistle? I pondered this apalling lack of whistleyness in today’s youth and feel that this is the true sign of the end of civilization. I whistle so infrequently it freaks my cats out. Which is bad, because my dad was good at it and I feel I’m letting him down. So yeah, save the world, teach your kids to whistle. At least like a whipoorwill.
Plus (yes this is a long post, I’m making up for yesterday), Target has many, many Peeps items. So don’t go back there unless you want to come home with giant soft sculpture Peeps baskets, Peeps pens, chocolate eggs with Peeps inside and many, many more Peeps items. Now excuse me while I make some Peeps with my Peeps maker.
Hey - don’t knock younger men! I’ve found them to be quite wunnerful - I even married one! And Rue is like 13 years younger than I am and I think he’s just neato-torpedo! OK, so I’m not, like, trying to date him or anything, but I’m using him as a sterling example to, um, well, I’m not exactly sure. But younger guys can be just fine and dandy! Of course, when you’re looking, regardless of age, the good ones are always taken, which is a pit thread all its own.
OTOH, you might find a rich geezer in a retirement home… 
That remark was based on some horror stories I heard while researching procedures. I’ve since found out that Virginia has a state law that mandates insurance coverage for procedures when the BMI exceeds 40, which I fit.
FWIW, I’m at the point where I told my family quack that I’m game for it, and I’m doing some homework before seeing a surgeon to talk turkey.
Woman, don’t rule out them younder ones. Mr. Anachi is nine years younger than I am and it’s worked out fine. Sides you can still train em when they is young.
Did I miss something about bob? 
Mr. Lissar is a year and a bit younger. I am a cradle-robber, I am. Actually, I think all my husbands are younger. Does this make me a cougar? Do I get to wear sleazy leopard-print and smoke?
Maybe not.
I agree, Ashes, not liking marzipan is a crime. I think I will have another piece of the cake for lunch. Or maybe some soup and then the cake. Yum.
After dropping the laundry off at home, I walked down to the beach (2/3s of a block), because I could see whilst dragging laundry that the water was exceptionally pretty. It’s almost about freezing, too. I shoulda worn shorts except that there was a very high wind. It’s sunny today, and the water was almost tropical-coloured. Deep turquoise bluey-green. Very pretty. I came home with a pocketful of mermaid’s tears.
Ashes, darn that sounds like a great little walk, even if it was freezing out. There is sunshine here today, but no beach. I guess I could walk down along the Ohio, but I have a feeling it will be nowhere near as turqoisey. You will also be happy to know that my seven year old does know how to whistle, just not very well. She does sing quite a bit, but again, not very well.
Lissla, you lost me when you said he did not like cornbread, and now marzipan! There should be clinical evaluations done on the man.
The Mrs. and I are about 1/4 of the way through the mountain o’mousse from Sunday, knocking off a sliver a night. Inspired by not letting good food go to waste, I may have to start sharing it with outer family members… or maybe just eat more of it myself.
Beats the hell out of me, Puggy. Ask away. If you’re wondering why the gut surgery thing came about, I mentioned that in passing in my first post of the week.
Oh sure, younger men are delightful-- they’ll go anywhere and do anything if you let them touch your boobies (or think they’ll get to). I kid! But this one was a tadpole, barely old enough to sell alcohol at his after school job at the grocery store. Of coooourrrse, that doesn’t mean a person couldn’t have fun while waiting for the right tadpole to grow… legs and… stuff… Okay that analogy isn’t so good.
Okay Bob, that sounds better. I was all ready to go bop people on the head and make them do as you wish. Research is a good thing. There are some gastric bypass e-mail groups that are super helpful and see if your prospective surgeon has workshop dealies and patients you can speak with. Darn it, I wish you were in San Diego, my aunt and cousin (who came from waay out of state) had theirs done at Alvarado and I know they’re the bee’s knees. Maybe see who they might reccommend in your area. Yay for Bob!
Alvarado is like THE PLACE for gastric bypasses. I believe they were on the cutting edge (so to speak) of that kind of thing.
I saw a coupon in the paper for Peeps encased in a chocolate egg. Intriguing.
BSMF is 2 years younger than I am, but lawks a mercy, you’d think it was 20 the way he lords it over me. Just wait 'til next year when you turn 30, buddy. It’s black balloons and Viagra bottles for you, ya jerk.
I almost said Happy St. Patty’s day, but then I thought for a second, and realized no-one else had said it first. Then I looked at the calendar. I always get St. Patty’s & Tax Day mixed up - and no, I’ve never been late on my taxes because of it. I still do have to do my taxes, though.
I was all sorta-southern today. I ate the last of a side-dish I had made Saturday night - and it had okra, which is southern. Except the recipe I made was Gombo - no, not Gumbo, I know the difference. This is Gombo, which according to the cookbook I took it from (Sundays at Moosewood Restaurant) is an African side-dish. It was good.
Susan
Okay, I just went back and reread your first post and can only say…DUH! :smack: Do I get a Mulligan because I don’t know nothin’ about no bariatric surgeries? Sounds serious as hell, though. Just ask us all for the good vibes thing when it comes time. Look how well it worked for kalley’s mom. 
On the subject of young men, two of them just left here. I spotted a painter’s business card on a bulletin board at the bagel place Saturday, and called the guy yesterday to see if he’d give me an estimate on painting the woodwork and ceilings in my house (as part of what is rapidly becoming The World’s Most Drawn-Out Decorating Project EVER.) The guy showed up today, and if he or his assistant is older than 20, I’ll eat my hat. And he came in way cheaper than other painters’ estimates, which makes me wonder if he’ll do a good job, but then I think, well, everyone’s got to start somewhere, and then I think, what if he screws this up and I have to redo it myself, and then I think, well, if he does screw it up I can always fire him, and then I think maybe I’ll get one more estimate from someone who looks like they might have done this before, and then I think maybe he’s a child prodigy and I’ll regret not hiring him ten years from now when he’s got his own show on HGTV.
The WryGuy has expressed the opinion that I might be overthinking this, and I should just hire the kid and make SOME progress around here.
I also want to note that I have got some Limited Edition Pringles. Who’d’a thunk it? They’re Loaded Baked Potato (artificial flavors and colors) and they kind of remind me of Chicken-in-a-Biskit crackers, only bacon-y rather than chicken-y. I’m quite sure they are not at all good for me. The can says there are three servings in here, but that has to be wrong, because there’s most assuredly not enough in here to feed two other people.
The Boy’s front teeth are just about finished coming back in, so hopefully he’ll learn to whistle soon. The Girl whistles like a songbird.
It sounds like I should hop on a plane this weekend!! Ok, maybe I can’t do that (although it’d be nice to see TaxiDriver again that soon!), but I am a HUGE chocolaholic (why can’t I spell that??) with dark and bittersweet chocolates being my favorite kind! (OK, way too many exclamation points. I’ll calm down now. It’s just the thought of all that bittersweet chocolate!) If I can’t fly down right away to sample that culinary delight, could I get the recipe? 
I can whistle. I do it all the time. But sadly, I have no children to teach this to.
Hey, did anyone else notice that Eve’s back? She was lured back to the boards with that train-wreck of a debate about last week’s South Park episode over in CS.
mmmmm, chocolate.
I made corned beef and cabbage last weekend, because who has time to boil it for 3 hours on a worknight? that was also mmmmmm. Finished it for lunch today.
I will wear green, even though I, too, am of Polish descent, and I, too, come from a family which emigrated in the early 1900’s…but we ended up in the coal mines. Wouldn’t you know my story would have to end before the vice president shows up? Oh, well, at least no one was hung for horse stealing, like my husband’s family. In the 1800s, not recently.
Bob, I’ve known several people who have had the surgery, and it was madly successful for all of them. Still, it is quite a decision to make. Make sure you search here on the SDMB–there have been many threads on it.
Moth balls <snerk>
I hadn’t been paying attention to the fact that she was gone. Was there an issue of some sort? (I’m way out of the loop on trainwrecks and drama, I have to say.)
Thanks for nothing, Sean.
Eve watches South Park? Next you will want to tell me about the Easter Bunny. I am disillusioned.
Maybe she just mistook it from the title for a society film?